


We Are Bound

by NightReaderEnigma



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: A Love that defies the odds, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon - Book, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Divided Loyalties, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Feelings, Internal Conflict, Internal Monologue, Love Confessions, Love Conquers All, Mutual Pining, Post - A Dance With Dragons, Romance, Sexual Content, Stuck on Opposing Sides of a War, The Battle for the Iron Throne
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:13:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28335195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightReaderEnigma/pseuds/NightReaderEnigma
Summary: The War for the Iron Throne rages and during a Winter Yuletide blizzard, former enemies sent to negotiate terms become secret lovers under the cloak of night.  However come morn, Jaime and Brienne awake to find themselves still on opposite sides of a fierce battle, torn between the loyalties of their heads and hearts.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister & Brienne of Tarth, Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 26
Kudos: 109
Collections: JB Festive Festival Exchange 2020





	We Are Bound

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Corina (CorinaLannister)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CorinaLannister/gifts).



> For Corina (Corina Lannister) - Happy Holidays! I tried to incorporate all your requested prompts. :)  
> Thank you for suggesting the song - although I was initially unfamiliar with it, I listened to it several times and the lyrics certainly provided inspiration for this fic (I saw that it was written by Sia, who I love!) 
> 
> As it is the festive season, I included a little Yuletide reference for extra fun and gave this tale a happy ending. <3 
> 
> I hope you like it! 
> 
> The prompts were: 
> 
> Angst, Mutual Pining and Betrayal  
> And the Song 'Battlefield' by Lea Michele
> 
> ***Trigger Warning*** Character Death – but I promise it is not Jaime, Brienne or Pod

The war was bitter, almost as vicious as the blizzard which had engulfed the camps the night before, swallowing the rows of tents and making travel impossible for emissaries behind enemy lines on peace talks, for a man and woman who had left too much unspoken for too long. 

Brienne heaved Oathkeeper again and again, its deadly arc cleaving armour and flesh alike, the heft behind her blows channelling her despair, providing an outlet for the bottled geyser of emotions within her, ready to erupt at the slightest jolt, the pressure mounting behind her armour and filth encrusted eyes. 

Blood mingled with snow and mud beneath her feet, a grotesque mass of colour. Blotches of vermilion, thick and viscous, unmissable against the stark backdrop. Pink slush where scrambling boots had swirled the two together, a sick parody of what was once a pleasant colour. 

_My cheeks were pink this morning. Rosy and warm. Though it was short lived…_

Brienne had never thought loving would be the simple part, the easy act in a drama spanning years, shaping her from an idealistic teenager into a hard-headed woman. Angling her towards divided loyalties and a broken heart. 

_It felt right, it seemed like a good idea…Until it crumbled with the dawn._

Jaime had come to her yesterday as Cersei’s envoy, a ceasefire declared temporarily for Yuletide, the perfect occasion to broker a treaty. She had received him as Sansa’s general, keen to end the violence which saw their armies clash each day, taking lives in the names of a twisted metal chair. 

Or at least – that was the official story. 

In truth two comrades met after many moons apart. Secret allies, with a bond forged in the mire of souls laid bare and wrought in trust stronger than iron. Enemies with common cause and shared history, a sliver of both their hearts reserved in perpetuity for the other, a shred of dedication kept from their respective rulers and bestowed upon the one who acted in the service of their adversary. 

It was in the sweep of their gaze, surveying each other for signs of injury, stiffness easing from their shoulders to find the other unharmed. It was in the glances that lingered too long across the table, which held on through thick lashes as pupils dilated and tongues darted out to lick across dry bottom lips, parched of mouth and desperate for a taste neither had sampled. It was in the familiarity, their smooth rapport and manner of conversing, comfortable enough to speak out of turn, forgetting the formalities and courtesies customarily employed during peace talks. 

Together they had hashed out clauses and terms, fine points and non-negotiables. From midday until sundown they had quibbled and debated, putting to voice every one of their thoughts on politics and the state of the realm, on war crimes committed and possible repercussions if a peace was not brokered. 

_But never did we speak our hearts, address the tension building between us, the unsaid desire behind riled eyes, the respect we felt for one another even when we disagreed._

Eventually there was no more to be said. The Lord and Lady having exhausted every plausible argument and even some unorthodox ones, butting their heads against each other and an invisible wall as they hit at stalemate. Coming to the conclusion that both their lieges were inflexible. 

_That’s when we discovered it was storming and I could not bear to send him out into the cold._

With goblets of mulled wine in hand, it was not their suddenly stinted conversation which spoke the loudest. Overwhelmed by the ambience of the blazing fire, the fur blankets calling from her pallet in an alluring song. The holiday air sizzled, given energy by their suppressed yearning, the proximity of each other’s skin charging the atmosphere in the confines of her pavilion. Sparking with his smile, igniting with the brush of his hand against hers as he reached for the pitcher, engulfing her when his lips slipped so smoothly against her own. 

_I let him fall into my arms. I let him claim my love, my virtue, my sheets - what was I seriously thinking that would achieve?_

In the dark of the night Brienne had learned how similar lust was to the passion of battle - the surges of adrenaline, the snatches of air, the thrill, the exhaustion, the heat. 

_Only now I am cold, the ice air burning my lungs as I hold each inhale in too long. Waiting to meet on the battlefield as we did in bed. It is cruel. It is inevitable._

Rallying her strength amidst the slaughter, Brienne tried valiantly to conjure up the memory of their first meeting. To rediscover the hatred and loathing Jaime had once inspired in her gut. Revisiting how she had despised the cocksure lion lord, arrogant even as a captive, diabolical of reputation without one shred of honour. In that time, it would have been easy to run him through, and if not for her vows to Lady Catelyn she would have considered it a righteous service to rid the world of such a detestable man. 

_Somewhere along the way, I forgot his notoriety, his family name. I became attached to the true soul behind the illusion, the White Knight hidden within the core of the Kingslayer…_

The woman inside her wanted nothing more than to squeeze her eyes shut tight, to mourn and cradle her shattered heart, self-soothing with shuddering sobs and sweet release. But the warrior screamed deafeningly, urging her on with a fierce battle cry. Inching their army forward, her fallen enemies littering the splattered snow. Soon one of the bodies would be his. 

_I have to let him go. He let me go._

_I have to let him go._

Breaking was not an option, no matter how tempting it may be. Though Brienne knew all she was weaving was a thin façade for outer show. That one drop of Jaime Lannister’s blood running down her blade would undo the convincing mantra of lies she had chanted to herself all day. Its hollow repetition piercing her brain but not her chest. 

_I do not love Jaime Lannister. I do not love Jaime Lannister._

Her mind was a strong instrument, rivalling Valyrian in its hardness. Determination an asset she had nurtured since her formative years, her logic and rationale a trait she took pride in. It had warned her last night but she hadn’t listened. Now it sought to piece her back together. Reminding her that holding onto a fantasy would serve them both ill. Clutching to a fragile dream of a life they would never lead. For he had his sister and she had her duty. 

_Jaime knew - he resigned himself to our parting. Jaime didn’t let his heart corrupt his logic._

The phantom of his touch spirited across her scalp, tingling through hair now plastered to her head with sweat, flattened by her helmet. This morning it had hung haphazardly across her brow, mussed by their acts of love. 

Jaime had carded his fingers through the locks, dragging them back so he could clearly see her eyes. The haunted expression on his handsome face once again conveying all that wasn’t voiced. 

“You’re leaving.” Brienne had choked out - and it was an accusation more than a question. 

“I must.” His fingernails scratching softly against her head felt like a lion’s claws raking over her heart. “We failed to reach an accord.” Withdrawing his hand he had swung off the side of the pallet, locating his breeches and beginning to dress. The task drawn out and clumsy between his stump and his left digits.

Brienne had rolled onto her back, staring at the high pointed roof of her tent, bottom lip beginning to tremble but stoic to the end. “There are no ‘musts.’” She rebutted, her tone biting. “Only choices.” 

“You would wish me to betray my family? My sister?” 

“Not if her goal was selfless, her motives honourable.” Pushing herself up to sitting, she had held onto the blanket covering her for dear life, knuckles turning white, her tight grip a way to fend off tears. “But Cersei is mad with power and she would condemn every man, woman and child in the Seven Kingdoms to death if it meant she could hold onto it. Such ruthlessness calls for an exception.” 

“Don’t you think I know that? If you are of the opinion that it rests easily upon my conscience then you are mistaken. Why else would I have come to offer terms? Engage in a parley which I knew would be fruitless? I did it because I had to try, I did it to see y-” Jaime huffed cutting off his own sentence, showing no signs of altering his course. Fastening his doublet button by painstaking button, his aloof demeanour hitting her like a rain of icy barbs. “Never before have I heard you speak so passionately against loyalty…” 

“Fuck loyalty.” She was angry now. With herself for being so naïve, so gullible, so unrealistic. For believing his allegiance would change in the wake of their roll in the furs, as though a Queen would be traded for an awkward giantess. For foolishly thinking that he would abandon his twin and lover of a lifetime in favour of a dalliance with an ugly vassal, that their one encounter would hold greater meaning than the countless he had shared with _her_. For sounding like a begging weakling, a woman railing at her paramour to try and make him stay. For being distracted from her initial mission – to sue for an armistice. “We will have no peace until one side lays down their arms…”

“Or one of us kills the other.” Jaime matter-of-factly addressed the taboo. The inescapable shadow of the Stranger lurking in the corners of their consciousness. Irreverently illuminating the outline of death’s morbid spectre, bringing it to the forefront. “That will solve it all quickly enough.” 

“Can you really say it that easily?!” Her speech quaked at his blatant nonchalance. “Are you that resolute?” 

The lion sighed heavily, wriggling into his final boot before rising to his feet and crossing over to the mattress. Brienne had watched his approach furtively, her posture stiffening defensively, flinching when he lowered his face to hers. “When the moment comes, I will not run. I will do what needs to be done.” A swift peck landed upon her lips. “And so shall you. You will go forward knowing that you have done all you can to end this amicably. Plough ahead with your head held high, maintaining that moral highground which you like so much and continuing this crusade in the name of the greater good.” 

“Is that what this was to you?” Her gaze swept the tangled sheets. “Me using the last advantage I had? I am not her – I do not use my body to manipulate and I sincerely hope neither do you.” Tears began to sting the corners of Brienne’s eyes, the realisation hitting her that he might have done precisely that. Seduced her in an attempt to win her support, taken her to bed to undermine her integrity and prove his unimpeachable dedication to his twin. “I must issue congratulations Ser – for demonstrating that you cannot be swayed from Cersei’s cause. Not for the sake of the realm, nor for the maiden you readily despoiled. Be sure to apprise your Queen of your successful conquest, she will be cheered by your unwavering devotion.” 

“Don’t.” He shook his head sadly, a grim ferocity encompassing his face. “Please Brienne, don’t go off on this tangent, do not let us part on these terms. After all our farewells and reunions this was by far our most profound, our most genuine. You know as well as I that our own personal wants don’t come into consideration in this game of thrones…”

“That is a paltry excuse and you know it. Pathetic and banal - you insult us both by giving it breath.” 

“That doesn’t make it less true. We had a mission, we failed. Now we pay the price.” His emeralds bore into her azure oceans, sharp facets meeting lapping water. “Will you grant me a kiss goodbye?” 

_He chose Cersei. He has betrayed you._

“I don’t think it appropriate.” Brienne had nodded once, formal and dismissive. “See you on the battlefield, Ser Jaime.” 

_I dropped his title last night, when he was above me, inside me. Jaime, I called him. Just Jaime._

She was gifted a moment’s satisfaction when he winced, visibly twitching as though he’d been struck. Hurt flooding the green, his front collapsing in upon itself. “As you wish My Lady.” 

But when he was gone she regretted the severity which tarnished their final meeting, letting politics corrupt the beauty of what existed between them, the rawness of her feelings amplifying the tragedy of their circumstance. And she had ridden into battle sore in her saddle and with an aching heart. 

_I should know better than to lament my plight. I have my life. I have my purpose. Since the warhorns sounded many cannot attest to the same, countless have lost their lives and even more have been maimed. The red rivers run and screams fill the air because Cersei refuses to surrender her reign of tyranny. Carnage is all she understands._

Only once, Brienne spotted Jaime, though that was easily over an hour ago; when she had lead a sortie into the Lannister forces, breaking their left flank which had been pushing the Northerners hard. The Tarth-born commander had paused with sword raised at the glint of gold armour, ears miraculously discerning the familiar nervous whicker of his blood bay destrier, her blue visor blocking his view of her eyes just as his lion helm obscured her vision of his emeralds. 

In their armour, they were steel clad beasts. Knights of their respective houses, removed from soft caresses of flesh and moans laden with ardour. But the bond remained, instinctual and inseverable. Brienne didn’t need the metal lifted to know they were staring at one another; their worst fears being played out before them. 

_If we both concede and turn away, we need not fight each other._

Her self-coaching had scattered to the four winds, the blood in her veins constricted by ice, and she cursed her inconsistent emotions whilst fire roared in her chest. An inextinguishable, relentless flame lit by the kindling of his presence. Love paralysing her ability to do him any harm. 

_Why did I think I could do this?_

Brienne swallowed around the lump in her throat, and she was rather certain it was formed of her heart. Climbing up her windpipe in an attempt to get to him, to make all that was wrong, right again. 

_But its never been right – we’ve never been able to be Jaime and Brienne. The world has always interfered._

Deep in her girlish mind, their future beckoned. A cherished daydream of peace and sublime love. Where they could rely upon each other and the exterior forces no longer conspired to tear them asunder. Jaime was there when she fell asleep, he was there when she opened her eyes. She never refused him kisses, he never asked her to change her stubborn ways. Scars were decorations on their skin, telling a story when they were naked. Lines to trace as they embraced and reminisced about how they fought the worst of odds and won. 

Her preoccupation should have cost her dearly, given the enemy troops an advantage, a chance to surround them and move in. But they had been commanded to fall back by their Lannister Lord, surrendering several yards of precious ground. 

_Jaime did that for me._

Through the slits of her visor, Brienne saw him glance over his shoulder as he galloped away, an enduring look which echoed her own. 

_We know our clash is coming, but we both will postpone it as long as we can._

When he disappeared from view, she prayed silently to the Warrior above. Asking for Jaime to be kept safe, begging the god to make him strong. 

_The only thing worse than dying by one another’s sword, would be to perish at the hands of a stranger, far away from the comforting circle of an embrace. Depriving us of the chance to whisper at the final moment, seizing the freedom which comes with mortality to declare that we are in love._

With this small consolation in mind, Brienne regrouped, moving her men to push against the freshly formed line in front. Claiming and holding the key piece of tactical ground they had been awarded. Reconciling herself to eventually snatching her last breath in Jaime’s arms, knowing now that she was incapable of taking the life of the man she loved. 

_In the end we all face our fears. Time waits for no man or woman. The fatalistic dance waltzes on._

And it did. Charge after charge, defence after defence. An infinite cycle of death and chaos. Her helmet was knocked, her ears rang, her newly exposed eyes stinging from sweat amongst other bodily fluids - both hers and that of her enemies. But Brienne never stopped, she could not falter. In this dance a sidestep meant life, a sway weakness and a well-timed spin could deliver your opponent to the Stranger. 

“Commander Tarth!” A rider approached in Tully colours, a spare courser tethered to his bridle and cantering alongside. His bellow slicing the macabre melody that she moved to, the song of steel and screams. “Lady Sansa demands you come quickly! They have yielded!” 

“What?” The gurgles of the dying men around her were drowned out by heraldic shouts. The news spreading from mouth to mouth like a tidal wave. The enemy forces dropping their weapons and falling to their knees, crying for clemency. 

Slipping Oathkeeper into its bejewelled scabbard, she tore her dented helm from her head, its visor now hanging limply by a single pivot, damaged, useless and not worth carrying. Discarding it in the snow, she vaulted into the waiting saddle, following the Tully solider at break neck speed. Her brain racing faster than the horse’s pounding hooves. 

_How can this be? As long as she had one soldier standing Cersei would demand they fight on. Where is Jaime? Please may he live…_

Ahead a crowd had gathered, the crown of Lady Sansa’s head and flashes of red hair just visible amongst a sea of advisers and relatives. Dismounting, Brienne strode into their midst, shouldering them out of the way to get to her liege Lady. “Stand aside! I was summoned by Lady Stark…” 

Her deep voice died in her throat as she broke through the throngs, spotting Jaime kneeling in the sludge, laying his sword at Sansa’s feet. His lion's helm removed or lost; his face dotted by fresh scratch marks, their jagged zig zags slashing his cheeks and chin with red. The shallow ones had clotted, whilst the deeper gouges still wept blood, indicating they were newly acquired. The sight made her wince but she was appeased to find him otherwise unscathed. 

_I do not love him for his appearance, I love him for his soul._

“As Head of House Lannister, I offer you our fealty and surrender. I ask you to spare my men who were only acting upon Cersei’s orders and give myself over to your judgment and sentencing.” 

“What has happened?” Brienne’s arrival had gone unnoticed until her exclaim split the air, bursting from her in an eruption of distress. 

All faces turned to greet her, Lady Sansa extending a kindly nod and explanation. “Ser Jaime has slain his sister, Queen Cersei.” 

“Cersei is dead?” Her jaw went slack, mouth gaping briefly, flapping like a fish upon a riverbank before she hastily slammed it shut. Turning from Lady Stark to Ser Jaime and then finally the horse drawn wain behind them all, the fallen Queen lying in state across the back, shrouded in black gossamer, the dark marks across her pale neck unmistakable even through the gauzy fabric. “How?” Even as she asked the question, already she had pieced it together. 

“I strangled her My Lady.” Jaime peered up at Brienne from his place in the pink and white snow, the colours framing her brave, unpredictable knight. The stained and the innocent. The contrasting elements of him. “It was a clean death, I made it as quick as possible. I knew I was the only one who could do it.” Brienne could read both the guilt and relief in his countenance, eyes tinged with equal parts shame and pride. _And love. He looks at me with love._ The golden lord gifted her a small, saddened smile. “I told you the only solution was if one of us kills the other.”

The shock she was already registering intensified threefold with the revelation. 

_I thought he meant us! It was not me he was betraying - it was Cersei. I jumped to the worst of conclusions, whilst he was telling me all I needed to hear._

“Did you know of this plan Lady Brienne?” Sansa enquired, sensing her bewilderment. “You treated with Ser Jaime yesterday, but I was of the belief your negotiations failed? Has Ser Jaime gone rogue in an attempt to save his own skin – or was this perhaps a greater orchestration by the two of you?” 

_And I will do what has to be done – to save my man._

“It was our design Lady Stark. We worked all night and into the morn trying to find a less ignominious solution but I’m afraid there was no other choice. After lengthy discussions it became apparent that the Queen Regent would never willingly yield her throne. I knew not the method Ser Jaime would use – only the base orchestration.” Brienne nodded respectfully. “It carried such great risk we could not jeopardise the plan by including anyone else and for that I apologise. But we acted in the best interests of the people and made the call of our own volition.” Taking a breath to keep her tone from betraying her desperation, she added. “I promised Ser Jaime a full pardon for his co-operation.” 

“You seem rather startled for a co-conspirator?” Brynden Tully arched a sceptical brow and Brienne wished she were more adept at lying, that her initial reaction had been more controlled. 

“I am astonished Ser Brynden – I know what was asked of Ser Jaime was monumental.” She caught the eye of her lover in the snow, reassuring him she was on his side. _Now and forever._ “I am impressed by both his efficiency and resolve. Lesser men would falter when such an onus was placed upon their shoulders, change their mind at the last moment and demonstrate unreliability. Ser Jaime is not that man – he knows all too well it is a knight’s code to protect the innocents at all costs and that is precisely what he achieved. I admit I had my doubts-” 

Brienne dropped her gaze in silent apology, filled with sorrow for how she’d underestimated her Jaime. _For_ _how I underestimated **us**_. _Our connection, our love._

“- and never have I been happier to be proven completely wrong. Much was riding upon Lord Lannister’s success - you understand that the fight had to proceed today as per normal, otherwise Cersei would have grown suspicious and his opportunity would never arise. With each passing hour more men were unnecessarily lost, so he has my additional gratitude for not hesitating.” 

“I swore to you when the moment came I would not run, that I would do what needed to be done...” Jaime nodded, their story flowing as easily as their limbs had entwined. Fluid and natural, everything fitting into place. 

_And he did indeed say those words - I just miscomprehended them._

“...It is rare these days that Cersei and I have an audience alone – but I requested one to tell her of our forces retreat on the left flank. My men are loyal to me and grew tired of this pointless war, there was no resistance to my taking charge when the grisly deed was done.” 

Lady Sansa approvingly tilted her chin. “Then I will honour Lady Brienne’s promise, accept your pledge of fealty and grant you a full pardon for your service to the Seven Kingdoms.” 

“Thank you.” Ser Jaime bowed his head in deference, before glancing up at Brienne, the tinge of mischief fleetingly banishing the dark clouds in his mien. “Lady Brienne – although I am grateful for my pardon, I do believe there was another clause in our agreement. Something about securing my continued loyalty through matrimony…to yourself?” 

_Was that Jaime’s idea of a marriage offer?_

A giddy rush spread from her scalp to her toes, making the lengthy journey down her tall frame. Enough to make her swoon, if it were not for her strong sense of appropriate conduct and self-control. Enough to make her woozy if she were not sturdier than a tree, her boots rooted to the frozen earth below. 

_Even though it was an unconventional proposal – I treasure it. Never would I have dreamed Jaime would ask me to be his wife._

_Or rather as he framed it… I asked him._

“I did.” Clearing her throat, Brienne maintained collected composure, suppressing the shy smile which wanted to tug at the corners of her mouth. “And as a servant of the realm and a woman of my word, I would be remiss to change the terms of our negotiation now. With Lady Stark’s sanction – you may consider us betrothed.” 

“If that is what you truly wish Commander Tarth.” Sansa seemed taken aback but none the less obliging. Brienne strongly suspected she would be questioned at length later when she was alone with her liege Lady, the romantic intuition of the younger woman piquing, perceiving there was more to this arrangement than was outwardly evident. “I will give my blessing to the match.” 

“Then it is done.” Brienne raised her eyebrows slightly at her lion. “We are to be wed Ser Jaime.” 

His shaggy mop of blonde curls blocked his face from view as he ducked his head for a second time – however his future wife strongly suspected it was to hide his triumph.

Sansa beckoned to her advisers, bidding them to follow. “Come – we have much work ahead of us. With victory comes responsibility and the Kingdom will not correct itself.” Soldiers wearing the sigil of the Direwolf, Knights of the Vale and men from the Riverlands hastily fell into step behind their ruler, mumbling – or grumbling – congratulations as they passed the Tarth-born General. 

Northern attendants swooped in, leading the horses garbed in Lannister livery, rolling the wain carrying the former Queen away, the evidence of the fallen monarch having been witnessed by all of consequence. Brienne knew their destination without enquiring, their Stark ruler was far too honourable to parade the ghastly sight like a trophy. Sansa would see to it that Cersei was delivered to the Silent Sisters and prepared for her funeral rites. Brienne was grateful when she observed how Jaime averted his eyes, studying the ground. The sound of crunching snow gradually fading into the distance. 

Lifting her gloved hands, she swiped at her face, wrinkling her nose when the leather came away encrusted with filth, an unholy film of grit and mortal stains. 

_Not the way every woman accepts a marriage proposal – but such is our relationship._

Striding forward, Brienne offered Jaime her arm. “At least you were on your knees when you decided to ask for my hand. A rather backward proposal I would say…” Helping hoist him to his feet, she noted the way his knees buckled beneath him, how he gripped her elbow to keep balance, his single extremity trembling against her armour. 

“You accepted.” Jaime countered, slipping his digits lower. Over her vambrace and to her leather-bound hand. Slowly removing her glove finger by finger as he spoke. “I hope I didn’t overstep the mark by suggesting our betrothal, it is just…” He cast the ruined article aside, taking her hand in his own, turning it over and boldly placing a kiss on the inch of wrist he had exposed beneath sleeve and steel. “…last night meant more to me than anything has in my entire existence.” He traced the lines across her palm as he spoke, and the innocent intimacy of the gesture quickened her pulse. A completely different kind of beat to battle soaked fury, a tender, content rhythm. “I am a greedy man; I couldn’t help but want a lifetime more of nights like that.” 

“It was a good idea.” Brienne reassured, reclaiming her right hand to ceremoniously twine her digits with his, angling his chin up with the index finger of her left. “I gladly give you my hand in marriage.” 

“Be certain My Lady...” 

She gazed down into nail clawed cheeks and wide troubled marbles, their silent struggle confiding to her all his trauma, letting her glimpse the damage this ordeal had wreaked upon his soul. “...I confess, I am a mess. Barely holding myself together. Living with me will not be easy – murdering my own twin sister is not something that will vanish from my conscience overnight. I do not regret my choice but I keep seeing…” His deep tenor rasped, abraded with emotion and she pulled him into an embrace. Armour grating and clinking against his as she wrapped long arms around his neck, resting her chin upon his shoulder whilst he buried his face in her hair. 

“We will work through it together Jaime.” Brienne kissed his cheek, bestowing upon him the affection he had yearned for earlier, giving little thought to her split lips or the muck and metallic tang of blood it pushed onto her tongue. _This is us, and never again will we allow anything to come in between._ “I swear it.” 

“Are you sure?” There was hope beneath his anguish and Brienne knew it was tied exclusively to her and their bond. 

“Positive.” The smile she finally permitted herself cracked the caked grime upon her face, quiet tears cleaning winding tracks on her stiffened cheeks. The future she envisaged closer than ever before. 

_We will get there. I know it. We will get there._

“We can conquer anything Jaime –” Brienne avowed. “- Look how much we have already overcome.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
